46 Concert Shirts, More than $1500 spent, Infinite Memories Made

Last week when I was blessed enough to go see Jenny Lewis live I asked my husband to find my old Rilo Kiley shirt. He said, "Man you have a lot of concert shirts. Like, a LOT."
The light bulb went off. I should count them! This should be blog-worthy.

I spent Saturday piling them. There were two piles: Ones currently in rotation, ones in storage. I counted:

In the two piles I had 46 concert shirts from concerts I had attended and ONE a friend bought me because I couldn't afford to go see Blink 182 at the time. 47 Concert shirts! FORTY-SEVEN!

At anywhere from $25.00 to $40.00 a piece, that is over $1,500.00 in live music fun and memorabilia well spent, in my personal opinion.

As soon as I went through the old clothes a massive wave of memories flooded me. I remembered the show, the set, who opened, that I was in the front and so on and so forth. Some shows I didn't remember much because I drank in excess which fogged things up, but that was also another memory in and of itself.

They all sat on my bed; so many of them! I didn't even know how I had ever fit in some of them. There they were, though in all their glory. It was the perfect picture of my twenties and an illustration of my coming of age.

I went to punk rock shows, alternative shows, indie shows, you name it. I was picky too, the bigger the venue the less it appealed with only a few exceptions. I had shirts for Journey, Foreigner, Neil Diamond and Bob Dylan to name a few. I knew a roadie for Journey and saw them 2 or 3 times one summer. Foreigner was a Florida show when I wrote for Creative Loafing. I took my dad to see Neil Diamond in the nosebleed seats of the RoseGarden arena in Portland Oregon. Bob Dylan was a large-ish theater with my sisters and brothers in law but we didn't sit together. They all hated it and I just thought "Holy shit, Bob Dylan is up there right now! BOB DYLAN."

The Matches, Reel Big Fish, Me First and The Gimme Gimmes, Juliette and the Licks, Cake, The Decemberists, Ben Kweller, Hanson, Flogging Molly, Death Cab for Cutie, Dropkick Murphy's, Mest! I'm unsure of whom I'm leaving out, oh! Big Head Todd and the Monsters, and that shirt was SIGNED.

My husband and I started reminiscing and filling in blanks for each other. We laughed about some, got a little nostalgic and sad about others. Every shirt was a memory of an epic night. We drove from Eugene to Portland more times than I can count. We drove to Washington before for a show. We never had money for new Vans slip-ons and paid bills late, but we found money for concert tickets and food and gas to get us there!

I still have the same obsession with concerts but I have to be more reasonable now. I'm a wife and mother. There have been so many festival type shows that I've wanted to bankrupt us to attend, just drive and go party for 3 days in the mud and see all the music until I couldn't stand anymore. 

If I went through each shirt I could probably blog about the entire circumstance around the band featured. I could tell you who introduced me to that band, why they are epic, which songs I love, which songs I hate and then why I went to see them and pick that shirt.
Sometimes I have trouble remembering why I walked into a room but when it comes to that pile, I can remember it all. 

I found my Foo Fighters shirt. My cousin and his fiance couldn't go to that show. He gave us the tickets for free. We got a cool hotel room close by and since we didn't pay for tickets we spent the money we WOULD HAVE on tickets, on booze and shirts. I drank WAYYYY too much and annoyed my cousins friends. I feel badly about this to this today. That was their first and only one-on-one experience with me and I was tanked and dancing, swaying, half-singing. It was ridiculous! And the waste of a good concert. I mean I remember it being awesome but still!

So that's 46 shows, and not to mention COUNTLESS others that I came home with a bumper sticker with or a signed set list, a drum set, etc. Going to shows was my sport. It had replaced shopping and I just needed to soak in as much live music as possible!

I'm just sitting back thinking about all of this because when I posted on Instagram I asked if it was excessive or awesome to have so many shirts? My answer is that it's completely amazing because they hold within them the story of my earlier days. I dug out my overalls and an old t-shirt and choker. I found the time to straighten my hair. My husband was adoring me a bit with some teasing commentary saying "Oh it's nice to see you all dressed up and with an outfit and like," I cut him off. I said, "It's nice to see me looking like me? I look like me, right?" He agreed, yes definitely.

Funnily enough, I didn't go anywhere but I think there are versions of me layered parfait-style within the outward Alison exterior. I can't pick my daughter up at school with a shirt that says "Me First and the Gimme Gimmes Got Balls.," even if they are holding bowling balls. I have an Offspring shirt and the back says "Stupid Goddamn Bullshit Motherfucker," or some such. Should I wear that to soccer practice?

You go in and out of phases. My husband and I actually had a ridiculous disagreement in the car last night. He was questioning the music I had on because of the lyrics. One of my favorite bands, Dashboard Confessional, of which I have a shirt, was singing from the car stereo, "My hopes are so high that your kiss might kill me, so won't you kill me, so I die happy." He said, "Oh nice, songs about killing people."

I got defensive fast. I said, "This is Dashboard, it's poetry!" He said, "The subject matter is a little intense." I said "Being in love that you want that epic kiss to kill you so you can die happy isn't okay?" He shrugged and said "She's not even 7!" I said, "So when she asks me I'll tell her what it means! At least it's not filled with swear words! We were listening to Fleetwood Mac yesterday! All those songs are about cheating on people!" 

He gave up quickly after I said "How is this any different than Taylor Swift talking about being and Archer or telling people to calm down or doing something bad that feels good?" He was like "Okay okay fine!" My daughter chimed in the back about liking country. I retorted, "Those songs are all about getting drunk!" We finally tabled it but it was a worthy argument I feel.

I want my kiddo to see these shirts and ask about where I got them, ask about the bands and we listen to them and I get to tell her stories. She can like or dislike them. I was listening to the Pointer Sisters when I was 3 (most of those songs are heavily laden with sexual undertones), I was obsessed with The Monkees when I was 5, I loved Talking Heads, whose prominent song is "Psycho Killer," and I went on to fall in love with music and keep it close to me for therapeutic value and adventures.

Those 46 shirts are 46 memorable stories of ME, or infinite memories if you get me going and I love that I get to call them all mine. I feel like more blogs like this will be coming along. Happy musical Monday, readers!  

Your Thirties Are For Saying No To Everything You Got Away With In Your Twenties

With a birthday looming, I'm starting to reflect much more. Does that just come with age? This is also our 10 year mark for moving to Florida as of July. So here I am, getting all philosophical and introspective.

The amount of adulting and growing up I've had to do the past few years is actually kinda unfair, but I maintain I'm better for it. Your twenties are for partying, credit card debt, adventures and working hard specifically so you can play hard. I remember working 6 days a week between two jobs, drinking every night and Sunday sleeping until noon, mimosas with breakfast, beer with lunch, bed at 10 and back at it again for another week, and that was tame compared to most others I knew.

By the time I hit about 26 I was feeling less and less into that kind of party and was way more interested in hosting people for dinners, drinks, and hang out sessions. I liked lunches out and buying new home items. Parties were reserved for concerts and some weekends depending on paychecks.

For me, I feel like the worst of adulting came with parenthood. I really thought I had it planned out and things would be okay, but that's the thing about life, it takes it's own route, doesn't tell you it's changing, and sometimes you can barely scrape together to find a path, let alone decipher the "way you should" go.

In my twenties, concerts were always a yes, no matter how far the drive and if I didn't have the money, just swipe my credit card, the money could happen later, the concert was happening regardless. Between my husband and I, our credit cards were very much well known and accepted anywhere. While I felt the burden of that intensely, it took a lot of work to undo that frivolity, but I wasn't unwilling to do it.

I worked diligently on fixing finances to the point of being unfair and obnoxious. I still feel humiliated having to say "no, we can't afford it," to a lot. The difference from my twenties to now is, I prefer to stay in my real, live, grown up house, whereas I never wanted to be stuck at my apartment when I could be out spending money and living life. My thirties are for being frugal so I can take a vacation that involved leaving Florida.

As if I'm not feeling old enough, this is the last year of the Vans Warped Tour with a huge 25th Anniversary festival in both California and New Jersey. I must say that when I saw that line-up, I wanted to cancel both trips we were planning this year and just take myself to both for one more foray into being a Punk Rock Princess before my retirement from my festival concert days.

Warped tour was my first festival-type show when I was 18 and came with all the stories, swag and was the beginning of my love affair with live music. It was always fun to bounce between stages, get bumper stickers, shirts and leave for home broke, dehydrated and sunburned with bags of memorabilia, ringing ears, and dirty Vans or Converse. Plus there was always a Taco Bell run at the end of it.

Despite my years as an avid Warped Tour addict, some of the big bands I've still never seen. Between both coasts, they are all on there. Now, I know some of you have bucket lists that include seeing different countries and cities, and mine does somewhat, but I have Bucket List Bands. Most of them are now un-affordable, unattainable or unfortunately dead. But when I saw that line up I wanted to take out a loan and just go!

Alas, now that I'm in my thirties I say "no" instead of "let's go." Often this makes me feel lame but lately I've had a better appreciation of what comes with this stage, and for me that's peace and security. Peace and security have been just a dream like those items in stores in New York City where you have to ring the bell and look put together enough to be allowed entrance. The employees could see me, and I was drooling at the peace and security, all shiny on display within the window, but I couldn't get near it. There was no access point for me then.

Being allowed in the shiny security and pretty peace store is even just a recent feat, so I tread lightly. I am definitely incredibly and cautiously optimistic about how far we've come but also appreciative of the journey.

My twenties were fun, filled with celebration and simple problems. My late twenties, my entrance into parenthood, and quick steps into my thirties have been existential. It's been really rough, but also rewarding, leaving me with still a ton of work to do, which I'm not unwilling to participate in.

I do feel like family life makes me say "No," more often than not and the exceptions are few and far between. We bend the rules occasionally but have been far more vigilant about staying the course. To those of you who walk on the wild side and just firmly believe that everything will find it's way and work out, feel free to share that wisdom with me because I suck at it.

I think I've always had no choice but to grow up early. I was violently shoved from my American Girl Doll days of dressing them up and listening to Hanson to having to figure out all walks of life on my own. Navigating social aspects was tough at times, I was super naive and simple, but I definitely had my teenage rebellion under way when the time was right.

I did however, strive for my independence. I wanted to work and go to school so I could have what I wanted and cover what I needed. Defining want and need was what changed quickly between my twenties and thirties, but I think that change was for the better. Now I know the times we need to "splurge" and "live a little," and the ones where we need to be more frugal. Okay maybe lately I just always think we need to be frugal but still! It's a work in progress, I'm a work in progress.

As I'm inching very slowly towards the next stage, and the next age I just feel aware of so much that my twenties were built on that just does not fly now. Some of it is frustrating and unfair. Some of it is affirming and kind of rejuvenating, because I know that I'm in a place where I can say no. Growth game strong!

For the first time, in a very long time I will say this, I'm pretty okay with where I am. I have my bills paid, no exorbitant debt at this time, we have plans for end of year vacations looming, and I can still get a coffee from time to time. I know there is savings and retirement kind of things happening and I have high hopes for some new appliances. There will always be unexpected things, and saying no is way more common now than it was a decade ago, but sometimes saying no is okay, or so I've explored previously.

So, I toast to being close to another year of being okay with saying no to all the stuff I easily got away with in my twenties, and to being even more firm in my thirties, I'm enjoying each new stage, no matter how difficult. Although, if anyone wants to send me to Warped Tour, that I would say yes to!

First Friends Are The Best Friends

I had just messaged my friend, the one who has known me the longest, since I was just 6 years old, and asked him if I could write a blog about us, and the next day at Publix I come across this cover on Life Magazine. And let me tell you, it could have been us.

I think of this tale as beyond epic so here we go. When I was in Kindergarten I went to some private prep school and met my best friend/ "first boyfriend," also known as Bradley. He was an older one, all of 7 and had red hair just like me. He once told me that when he was in like first grade, next to my picture he wrote that he would marry me some day but then scratched it out in older years. The universe had different plans anyway.

We may have made it a year or two together as inseparable. We had beach trips, sleep overs, camp outs, and endless play dates. We did lots of hand holding and kissing on the cheek, if memory serves. We watched E.T. together and I gave him my E.T. stuffed animal as a gift to my new "boyfriend." I should have dug out pictures of us from when we were beyond adorable.

When his family moved on from having him attend that school and living in that that area, my mom didn't stay in touch. We kind of just faded with nothing but pictures and memories of our childhood adventures. I didn't know if we'd ever speak again, let alone what would happen 17 years later.

See, this was back in the day before Facebook, MySpace, and Google took over so you could find ANYONE. All you had was old mailing addresses or a phone book to track people down. I can't tell you how many times he crossed my mind but I never would have thought he'd remember me.

In about 2002ish, Bradley had tracked down my dad's phone number in Oregon but admitted he was too afraid and intimidated to call. Knowing my dad he would have been rude at first and then relieved it wasn't some 20 year old boyfriend looking for me, and instead an old friend.

In 2009, when my husband and I joined Facebook, in the MOST unlikely of ways, Bradley found me, and this happened as soon as we moved to Florida. Bradley had been searching for me under my maiden name, my dad's last name, and tracked down my niece on Facebook, because on Facebook I've always had hubby's name. My maiden name, Lodjic, was pretty darn rare. He messaged her asking if she knew of me at all and she responded saying, "That's my aunt, she just got married, here is her Facebook name."

And that was it, the boy who knew me the longest and had been looking for me, finally found me when I was just 24 years old, after not speaking since we were maybe, 7 and 8? It was completely astounding.

Bradley was kicking ass in the Airforce when we reconnected. We spoke via the magic of the internet A LOT. We did IM and Facebook, I called him as much as I could. We emailed. We stayed up hours talking about everything. He remembered my family before everything turned sour and he remembered things my trauma had blocked out. I knew him before his personal family stuff and there was a sense of home and familiarity that never left us.

My husband never seemed to be phased by the interaction but perhaps because there has always been an ocean between us. Bradley asked me all about my husband and what I was up to. He read all my poems and blogs. He told me all about his then ex-girlfriend, now wife, and how he knew she was the one. We left no stone unturned in conversation. We picked up immediately as best friends, like we'd never missed a day, let alone close to two decades. It was weird, but completely natural and normal all at the same time.

Ten years ago Bradley Facebooked his way back into my life, and I can honestly say, I couldn't have gotten through that decade without him. There is not a doubt in my mind that he found me because he was meant to be a true friend, a comfort and support that I needed. He is someone from my roots, to keep me rooted. Now, let me elaborate.

Bradley has heard me complain and cry about everything. He calls me out when I'm being unfair in my perspective with my personal relationships and totally has my back when it comes to parenthood and all the ways of me being all that is Alison. When he married his gorgeous wife, I thought he might fade away because you know, life, but we check in often and they happen have a beautiful daughter a year older than Luna. She and Luna are the same age difference as Bradley and I. I desperately want them to meet someday!

Okay back to some history. When I told Bradley why I disappeared from life and reconnecting and he told me about everything he'd gone through, there was no judgement, from either of us. It was the same little boy that held my hand when I got freaked out watching E.T. He was just an amazing friend. And still is.

In March of 2016 for an Airforce training something or other Bradley traveled to Melbourne, Florida. This is only 3 hours away from us. He wanted to meet us all. We hadn't seen each other in 25 years! And we were planning on reconnecting finally. 

My husband had to work so I packed up Luna and we went to Melbourne. We decided to hit the zoo. As a father missing his daughter, he immediately befriended Luna and what was both so strange and perfect, was how watching him with her made me remember more of our childhood together. He was silly and hilarious and all about her. He even got her to try her first snow cone. It was the perfect day, like in Tangled, "Best DAY EVER!"

I know that men and women aren't supposed to be friends. There will be people waiting for me to declare some kind of romantic love but it's the opposite. He's like my brother. He has talked me through some of my darkest moments. He has asked me to help him with some of his perspectives on parenting, marriage and life in general, and of course I harass him for the same. 

We've gone weeks without chatting much but we always check in and keep tabs on one another. When we got in the car accident he was living in Hawaii. When he saw the stuff on Facebook he messaged me in concern. I had just settled down at 11PM at night after an 8:30AM accident and worst day ever, and I just couldn't sleep. My husband was in a separate hospital and all I could do was lay my bloodied head down and try not to cry. 

I remember when he messaged me just mentally collapsing and Bradley calming me down over Facebook messenger because I told him I couldn't rest and was cold, and shaking, upset. I was sore, bruised, and uncomfortable while watching Luna sleep. He told me I was in shock and probably had some intense PTSD. He said that I should be in shock and needed to be gentle on myself. From thousands upon thousands of miles away, he calmed me down enough to get some rest.

These are the seemingly simple moments that confirm he's meant to be like an older brother to protect me from afar. I know this because when I've told him my worst attributes, my most regrettable acts, and all the bad with the good, he's never been mad at me or told me to go away. He's also kept me strong and fighting, never letting me give up on myself or my life.

Don't get me wrong, I have women friends who are my life blood, but there's something about the story of Bradley and I that is just too...stupendous to act like it doesn't bear meaning and purpose. He did give me permission to wax on about this and make this a big deal because...I mean look at that history. Nothing short of epic.

And maybe we won't be around each other in the way that we are now, forever, but I like to think that Luna and his daughter will meet and create the same kind of bond that will outlast our lifetimes. His daughter even inherited E.T! I'll have to report back on that chapter though. I better message him that I actually published this thing though...

Kids Are Honest, Brutally, Rudely Honest

On our drive to church last week my daughter just blurts out, "Grandma's getting old mom. You're getting pretty old too." Thank you dear, daughter, thank you for that honest and astute observation.

Last week when my daughter was doing her horseback riding lessons, on a pregnant horse no less, she was talking about the horse having a big belly and her daddy having a big belly but daddy can't have a baby so his belly shouldn't be that big. Kids say the darnedest things!

When I was a nanny and in that awesome phase where you just turn 21 and begin drinking all the sugary, fattening things and dine out every meal and calories are just a concept, I became thicker, and much faster than in my pre-drinking age days. One afternoon one of the two year old girls I watched pushed on my stomach and said, "Is that your belly Ali? Is it FAT?" Her mother was a former model and her father was a neurosurgeon. I laughed and said, "Yes, but I'm working on it." Her father heard the exchange and said to her, "That is rude! You apologize to Ali!" I reassured him it was fine. She was two, after all.

The worst part is, she was completely right. Kids are usually right when it comes to these inconvenient observations. My daughter is a chatterbox from the moment she wakes up until she falls asleep but when she sneaks in that random honesty, it is brutal, hilarious and most often, heartwarming.

I have tried to raise her to not use silly, inane and mispronounced words and to have a very strong vocabulary. Although I will admit I love when she calls Nutella, "Nella." Her vocabulary bites me in the ass on a regular basis. My daughter is the one in the supermarket telling me how big her poop was. "It was enormous mom, HUGE!" She'll talk to me about how we should only pick our noses at home or in the car, not when we're at the store. She'll tell me how stinky daddy's farts are and that her vagina was really itchy today, all in public. I'm at least proud she is using descriptive, complete sentences.

I try not to act as though she can't say things out loud or be heard but say, "That's more talk for just you and I, maybe not the whole bread aisle at Publix." With her commentary comes wonderful conversations about random things, although sometimes can get a little dark.

She's about to be 6 so that death fixation phase is real and she told me recently I would definitely die before her, which was sad because she would miss me a lot. So with the dark truth came the heartwarming part. 

My favorite to date though, was her talking about who would die first, Brodie, her 8 year old pug, or her Grandpa. That one is really a coin toss because both could easily make it another 10+ years but it's all completely health dependent, which is a sad, harsh truth.

I try to deter her from using "unkind" words. We don't say "fat" about other people but maybe "I made a big fat bubble with my bubble wand," or "I had a big, fat sandwich today." I don't let her say "Oh my god," but instead, "Oh my gosh," or 'What the heck or hell," we quote Liz Lemon with "What the what?!?" And we don't say "Stupid;" that one isn't allowed at all.

I have these ridiculous mom moments where I laugh and get a little bit momma bear when it comes to altercations at school. Luna had been in Kindergarten about a month and got in trouble because she "Called a friend a name." I asked her to tell me what happened and she explained that one little boy called her a "Poopy face," and she said "Well, you're an idiot." As much as I had to be the mother who detests name calling, I mean, she was right. Calling someone a poopy face is indeed idiotic and can we give no points for a great retort and wonderful vocabulary?

This is why my mothering can be so...questionable but also kind of awesome. But this is also where their honesty is just amazing. Sometimes I wish we never learned to have those filters and blocks of "appropriateness" and we just were brutally honest because what I love is it's rare to see kids this age actually speak these words maliciously. They just observe and report. So it's kind of endearing. It's when we use the words in mean ways that we get into trouble. 

A few years ago I had said something as a joke with Luna in earshot when she was like 4, because a little boy had pushed her and I was talking to her about using her words to express herself, not using her hands and I said under my breath, "You can hurt a person way worse with your words anyway; lasting damage." My husband looked at me horrified, and barked, "Don't say that!"

There was truth to it though. Kids get hurt by the name calling and being told they aren't friends with so and so anymore. But they bounce back from cuts and bruises. That brutal honesty bounces off most little friends and from kids to other adults too. If only we could keep varying degrees of that honesty and amplify our kindness to a good medium.

In an exchange with one of my friends recently they were complaining about gaining weight. In no way was I going to be like "Yeah you're so much fatter," but I didn't want to discount what they were saying to me with like "Oh you look fine who cares, it's the holidays," so I responded with honesty and kindness. I said, "Look you've mentioned this before and I have your back no matter what and support you going to the gym and getting into a routine. I can even go with you, but I do think you still look awesome, even if you want to improve upon yourself." It seemed to have a calming effect with their worries but also give them a positive affirmation. This is something I feel like kids do so much more naturally.

When Luna says, "Daddy makes grilled cheese way better and you make pasta so crunchy," she often then says, "But I like your quesadilla better and daddy doesn't make good eggs." 
I've worked harder on finding this medium within myself but kids just seem to have a knack! Having a filter does come in handy, though, especially with my own parents, and my boss, which is something children don't even have a little bit. It's all about balance.


I intend to keep this momentum in balance and mindfulness this year, especially. Although, for now, I intend to enjoy the young, brutal honesty because when she's 16 and telling me I'm a horrible mom, I can revisit these moments and miss her stating I'm getting old. Those are more palatable truths and we all need those!

Blog Post Challenge 24: A Difficult Time In My Life

Well this is kind of an intense subject. There have been a few times in my 33 years on this planet that have been difficult and most definitely parenthood in general has been rough, but I'm going to take a risk and write about something I'm super not comfortable talking about and we'll see how it is received.

Nearly a decade ago I was finishing college and I had my world rocked. My mom has struggled with addiction my entire life. She has had periods of sobriety and also horrendous relapses for about the last 20 years. When I was 17 we learned the hard way that she and I could be great at a distance but could not coexist in the same home.

She stayed in South Florida and my dad moved me to Oregon when I was 17 to finish high school and get into college. When I was finishing at University of Oregon, my mom had just lost both of her parents within and year and had a cancer scare with a huge ovarian tumor removed. I had spent 2 weeks the previous summer before classes started, taking care of her until she was well enough to function on her own just after we had buried her mother and father. 

But one cold, January morning my Uncle called me really early and told me that not only was she using again but that he needed to remove himself permanently from the situation because things had gotten so bad and she had wronged him so deeply that he needed to cut off contact. Somehow he mustered the ability to apologize to me that she had become such a mess and urged me not to stay close with her, afraid of her next moves with no family support. I spent the day home from school, 3,000 miles away from her and freaking out.

My mom had just inherited a great deal of stuff from my grandma. Most of it was sentimental but still important. My grandma's house was on the market and that was just an hour north of my mom's place at this time as well. I was worried about my grandma's stuff being lost or sold. She had done countless watercolor paintings and had some great furniture as well. Also, my then-boyfriend-now-husband and I were planning on living with my mom and putting him through school. This changed everything. We couldn't risk being around her either.

One of my Florida high school friends and my dad helped me get a storage unit and in February of my last semester I flew to Florida by myself to lock up and protect my grandmother's treasures knowing that in July when we moved to Tampa, we could get them and keep them with us. 

When I got to my mom's house she was in a frenzy in the process of being evicted. She had two cars, my grandmother's old Mercedes and a Ford Escape she had promised to my husband. Her other brother was coming to get the title and the Mercedes to drive north for my cousin while he stopped to check how the house was doing on the market in Port. St. Lucie.

When I first got there she gave me this look like "Uh oh, busted." I think I had my friend's truck to pack up and make runs. It was only a matter of minutes before she started yelling at me about taking her things. Then she had quick mood change. "Well, take this stuff too," she said. "Yeah, for later and then I can have the key."

This was one of those moments in life with an addict that no one could ever prepare you for. This was when my 23 year old self, struggling to adult and protect things that are important to myself and my family has to stand strong and summons the energy to say: "Mom this is not me helping you, do you understand that? I don't want you to lose Grandma's things. This is not a favor, these are now mine and we will see what happens if you get clean. And I need the title to the car."

She told me the car was hers and the title was in a safe deposit box at the bank. I knew full well her brother was in route but dare say nothing in case she bolted. She started talking to me again about keeping her things and I finally lost it. "You get no key or access. I will be coming to get these things when we move. Your ex-husband (aka my dad) helped me get down here and by the grace of my old friend and ditching a few days of school I'm taking what's important so you don't lose ANYTHING ELSE." She looked at me blankly and asked, "Can you pay my phone bill too?"

When my uncle drove up he just walked in and said, "I'm taking the car where's the title?" My mom looked at me, enraged, "You told him I was here? You little shit! He can't take my car! SHE LEFT THAT TO ME." I walked outside and let her scream it out before my uncle came back out with the keys. 

When he left in the Mercedes I finished packing up and went to crash at my friends house. My friend joked with me enough that I fooled myself into being calm. I'd given him a key to the storage unit too in case someone needed to get there fast for any reason. My mom harassed him for the next 3 months until he mailed it to me in surrender. 

When I left my mom she was getting ready to live in her car, until a month later they repossessed that. When I said goodbye to her she wasn't even really her if that makes sense. I cried the entire plane ride home because in that moment I didn't know if I would see her again or she would end up dead. I came home deflated and went back to finish my last semester.

I don't tell many people that story because it's dark and uncomfortable. My mom hates being judged as some "filthy addict." If you've ever met her she doesn't ever come off that way but I had to see her at her worst. For me what makes this a difficult time is knowing that I had to be the one to help my mom hit her true rock bottom. I had to give her real consequences so she could find a reason to get healthy.

She's been sober 8 years this summer. No child of any age should have to be that strong and sometimes the weight of what that does to a person is so much heavier than you can imagine. Telling your mom to deal with the ramifications seems unfair but addiction takes over and makes her turn into someone who is not even the same person you thought you knew.

I don't share this for pity or sympathy. Most of my family doesn't know the depth of this. Most of my family doesn't talk about this and still doesn't even speak to her. So yeah this was a dark, difficult time in my life and I appreciate you reading about it. If you, too, have struggled with a life around or in addiction, just know that even when we seem like we're against you, we're with you in more ways than one. And no one's experiences with addiction are better or worse than anyone else's, the just ARE and they must be difficult times for you all as well. You are not alone and you definitely can appreciate the lighter times now, or so I have experienced!

Daily Blog Challenge 22: Ten Favorite Songs

Only 10? Only Ten FAVORITE SONGS! My goodness, these will have to be in order from least favorite to most favorite. Here we go:

10. Joni Mitchell - The Circle Game. Google immediately if you have not listened to this gem! When I turned 30, I demanded my dad help me indulge my Joni Mitchell love affair with her album, on vinyl, Ladies of the Canyon. Not only is this one of the best songs of motherhood ever written but my goodness it is simply gorgeous musically as well. My favorite lines are probably the chorus which include: "And the seasons, they go round and round and the painted ponies go up and down. We're captive on a carousel of time. We can't return, we can only look behind from where we came and go round and round and round in the circle game!"

9. Simon and Garfunkel - El Condor Pasa (If I Could). I found this one on a soundtrack and I feel so in love. I have felt that Paul Simon and/or Simon and Garfunkel are poets and seriously very underrated but this song just got me. I can actually play this loud and proud and rock out. Favorite lines include: "I'd rather be a forest than a street. Yes I would, if I  could, I surely would. I'd rather feel the earth beneath my feet. Yes I could, if I could, I surely would.

8. Death Cab for Cutie - Lightness. I could listen to this for days at a time. This is a seriously underrated, gorgeous, tragic and poetic piece. I have listened to this loud singing, "Oh, instincts are misleading, you shouldn't think what you're feeling. They don't tell you what you know you should want..." It never gets old or any less true. 

7. Rilo Kiley - A Better Son/Daughter. This song I have belted more times than I can count and I cannot stop thinking Jenny Lewis wrote this about me: It goes like this: "Sometimes in the morning I am petrified and can't move, awake but cannot open my eyes. And the weight is crushing down on my lungs I know I can't breathe and hope someone will save me this time. And your mother's still calling you insane and high, swearing it's different this time. So you tell her to give in to the demons that possess her that God never blessed her inside. Then you hang up the phone and feel badly for for upsetting things, crawl back into bed to dream of a time when your heart was open wide and you loved things just because, like the sick and the dying. And sometimes when you're on you're really fucking on and your friends they sing along and they love you. But the lows are so extreme that the good seems fucking cheap, and it teases you for weeks and attacks it. But you'll fight it and you'll make it through, you'll fake it if you have to and you'll show up to work with a smile! You'll be better and you'll be smarter and more grown up and a better daughter or son and a real good friend. You'll be awake, you'll be alert you'll be positive though it hurts, and you'll laugh and embrace all your friends. You'll be a real good listener, you'll be honest you'll be brave, you'll be handsome and you'll be beautiful. YOU'LL BE HAPPY!"

6. The Decemberists - Engine Driver. The Decemberists have mastered music that comes with epic tales of love and loss. They very much tackle certain eras of tales and recreate a musical narrative. They are not to be missed. This song just has such an amazing melody and story that I connected with, quickly.  "I am a writer, writer of fictions, I am the heart that you call home. And I've written pages upon pages trying to rid you from my bones."

5. Hanson - Strong Enough to Break. This was my car accident anthem and inspired one of my tattoos. The lyrics that got me most were: "Things keep coming and I keep wondering, I start feeling the walls close in. Things keep coming and I keep stumbling, I start feeling strong enough to break." Hanson is actually a great band past MMMBop and before you judge, listen to a recent album and message me. Let's chat!

4. The Shins - Simple Song. Have you ever liked a song and never really listened to it? Then one day you listen and you're like WHOA, they totally nailed it!? That's this song. Specifically when he sings "I know that things can really get rough, when you go it alone. Don't thinking you gotta be tough and play like a stone. Could be there's nothing else in our lives so critical as this little home!" And then also, "Love's such a delicate thing that we do, with nothing to prove, which I never knew!"

3. Dire Straits - Romeo and Juliet. Does this even require a description? I think it does not. This is an epic tale and musically, Mark Knopfler is a god among men. Listen to it. Over and over. And it'll change your life! 

2. The Beatles - A Day In The Life. I love ALL BEATLES. They will never get old. This one is both gut-wrenching and gorgeous all at the same time. I've listened to this in times of joy and sadness and it speaks to both, consistently. Over and over.

1. Death Cab for Cutie - Title and Registration. The lyrics of this ENTIRE song are beyond perfection. I have seen this live nearly 10 times and each time it gets better. I could never get sick of this one. It never gets...untrue!

So here we are fans! Enjoy and thank you for reading and following with me! Hope you discover some awesome new music today!

Blog Challenge 16: My Dream Job

The perfect illustration for my dream job would be that of Patrick Fugit's character in "Almost Famous." He got to tour with Stillwater and tell their tales in Rolling Stone. I also completely believe that I was born in the wrong era because I wanted to be on tour with the bands of the 70's and writing for Rolling Stone. 

My dream job is that of a music writer. My attachment to music has been rooted as long as I can remember, and I just wanted to write and write and write about, that song, that scene it creates, "this is what I hear, is that what it meant?"

Some songs and bands just seemingly "get you." And I always wanted to literately break down why I was obsessed with that band or song or album or why that one didn't connect with me.

When we first moved I wanted to do an internship with Paste Magazine. They were Atlanta-based and theirs and PitchFork's were still good, non-biased articles on new, indie and obscure musicians. Rolling Stone will always be Rolling Stone but you have to be super famous to even write a line in there. They would never just take some random piece.

Then I had this amazing idea for a Food and Music Magazine where you could have recipes and dining set ideas along with music suggestions like, "This steak and wine is perfect for a Pink Floyd album revisit, particularly..." I just thought it would be cool to get two specific audiences and merge them because both food and music are such universal, wonderful interests that often unearth common ground.

I spent time writing for Creative Loafing in Tampa/Ybor City and doing concert reviews with them. That was fun! Free concerts and I got to review how they were and make people feel like they missed out on an experience. I've done art reviews and interviews as well and I love interacting with people and sharing a story.

To me, music already tells a story, but how we hear or perceive the story is our own journey. And I love that I might think something is so awesome while someone else could present that they felt it was so disappointing within the music, or just in life I guess too.

I think I always wanted to interview the artists I admire and just ask what they were actually thinking when they wrote or played that piece because music's meaning can transcend over time. When I was 16 and was depressed a song could mean one thing. When I'm 30 and grown up it may mean something completely different but still resonate. 

I also love hearing what each person's unique opinion is about other pieces of music. Some people detest certain genres, some people like the actual instrumental music and don't care about lyrics, and some people only care about lyrics and could care less about it being catchy. The diversity of music is just so fascinating to me.

If Rolling Stone or Spin is hiring I would gladly make time for an interview but with print going out of style and with the music industry becoming less and less unique and seemingly more commercial, I know that it's just one of those dreams that will stay an awesome dream. When I was young and naive I really wanted to move to New York or San Francisco and make being a real, live writer happen but with age comes responsibility and we don't always get to dream when we live in the reality.

And now for the cliche ending I will say that I will continue to "Dream On," which is a shameless nod to the classic hit by Aerosmith. Yeah that just happened. Mic drop. 

Twenty Something, Or Twenty Nothing?

I’m about to be 27, which is not a big deal but I’m definitely feeling that sense of the looming “adult” set in. Maybe it’s the new apartment and the hubby’s new job, or maybe, “GASP,” my biological clock is actually tick-tocking to the point that I’ll have to face it, one way or another.

For years now I’ve felt like, bring on age 30, what’s the big deal? Bring on the mortgage payment, a screened in porch, bottle of wine, and kids asleep with my man in his recliner burping up high life and complaining about work. I’m ready! I’m sick of living paycheck to paycheck, sick of credit cards substituting savings accounts. I’m ready for the family-economy wagon, worrying about what to make for dinner instead of dropping another $20 bucks on take out, and I’m super ready to feel a sense of home outside of the physical realm that is wherever my husband and the dog are.

Life is never what you think it will be, this much I know in my nearly thirty years of life on this planet. You can plan and set goals all you want but life changes from moment to moment. It’s best to just go with the flow. 10 years ago, my view of the world was completely different. I had completely different ideas of what I wanted or needed and I certainly could’ve never guessed I’d end up where I am now.

Some days I get bummed out that I don’t have a big, grown up, high paying job. True to the Lodjic-girl way, my father raised three smart girls with hefty educations and degrees who don’t work in their field and don’t get to use that degree for more than making others feel stupid from time to time. Unlike my sisters, however, I adopted the Chriss name so at least I have that to make “the cheese stand alone.”

There is something strangely gratifying about working for a living; going into work, coming home and having a steady paycheck. There’s something even more gratifying about looking back at where my husband and I evolved from. My man literally started in a dish pit and is now a head chef, menu creator and pioneer of a brand new, hit restaurant in the Tampa Bay area. I was a spoiled brat with dreams of being an overpriced, bitch lawyer who desperately wanted to go to Pepperdine or Berkeley who ended up at University of Oregon with a Magazine Journalism degree and married to the best man she’d ever met before 30. I once vowed that I would never marry before 30 and almost asked my best friend who is gay to give me some of his genetics so we could created the most sassy child on the planet and I would be a bad-ass single mother conquering the professional world. Clearly I watch too many films of this nature, but life certainly does write its own tune and we’re just singing along!

It definitely doesn’t help that all over Facebook are friends creating families and careers that make my commission-based position look like a promotion at McDonald’s, but another thing I’ve learned is that you either work to live, or live to work and we kind of walk that line. But with that TICK, TOCK that don’t stop also comes the haunting question: Are you a Twenty-SOMETHING or a Twenty-NOTHING?

Define something and nothing? I feel like we’ve got something…at least a little something going for us. We’re certainly able to triumph over the dramatics of this life, even though more often than not we’re the creators of such things. We are able to still love each other even when we really want to scream and throw things. And, we are always able to laugh. We’ve even managed to find some amazing people to laugh at us, with us and around us along the way.

In terms of nothing, well this is certainly nothing like what we’d imagined all those years ago. My man was supposed to be a rocking drummer in a famous band and we’d occasionally meet on tour when I was covering other bands and writing for Rolling Stone magazine. After that dream was squashed we were going to put my man in a high-priced culinary school and live with family to save up for our dreams while I got a fabulous job in Miami or West Palm and a prominent publication. Then that went up in smoke we just planned a wedding, a cross-country move and said, “We’ll just figure out the rest when we get there,” and we did, and we have.

Now I’m not under and magical illusion that we didn’t need some help along the way. We certainly had a lot of support from our friends, family and loved ones but we’ve nearly mastered the art of dealing with the piles of inconvenient happenings that life creates on a regular basis. I’ve said it once before and I’ll say it again, the storm we can handle, it’s the calm that makes us uneasy.

I think that for a twenty-something couple, us Chriss’s are doing pretty well at making sure that we are more than just some twenty-nothings in debt, in doubt and in denial but certainly love embracing our cynicism and sarcastic side to make the bad days feel a little lighter.

We had our moments of nothing, our loss of loved ones in our family, saying goodbye to friends and the people we once couldn’t picture not being part of our lives. But from that nothingness came something, the stuff of which bore our amazing relationship. I still sit back in awe from time to time at how we’ve come to be us, how we’ve creating this “something.”

So yeah, our twenties may be on the down-slope and we may have days where we have no idea where we’re going but at least we’ll have each other for the ride, and that’s definitely a “something” for our twenties, rather than a nothing!